Serpent's Tale: Once you were chosen
by Dark Desdemona
Summary: He was dead...but they gave him a second chance. There is a catch though...he must save the Earth that was not his but one that he knew intimately --fan insert fiction--
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: No own nothing**

* * *

'_Have you considered the possibility that I might not want this?'_

_There is no other choice._

'_Liar. There are millions other Transformer fans all around my Earth but you have to pick me?'_

_No other has your history._

'_Bullshit.'_

_You have been chosen. You are here. Afterwards, do as you wish._

'_No obligation? Just existing here? Somehow that sounds too good to be true.'_

_We have learned that it is futile to force your race to do anything if we want it to be done right._

'_Manipulation then…not bad. I didn't expect this from a bunch of magnanimous Primes though.'_

…

'_Soooo… I'll always be connected to you all?'_

_Yes. In this world, you are essentially our creation despite being made of flesh and blood. _

'_Is that why my physic is one of a male instead of a female? And geez, can't you make him any younger?'_

_It helps you to connect better with the bearer of AllSpark in the future, young one. As for the gender, we have observed that the males of your race seem to have more influence and power over the changing of the world than a woman._

'_Hahaha, it's that obvious huh. Alright Fathers. It's not like I have a choice. Now, tell me what my mission is.'_

_Save the Cybertronian race._

'_Whoa! That's a tall order!'_

_You shall not be alone in this task. We will be guiding you towards the end._

'_Yeah, yeah, whatever. You know what I was and what I'm capable of. As long as you give me a good life, I'm yours to use.'_

_We have thought you would put more of a fight. Humans will never cease to amaze us. _

'_Well, I'm a mercenary to begin with. I kill for money. I act like a good bodyguard for money. I spy for money. You're offering me something that no money can buy. I must be crazy if I don't say yes.'_

_Some might argue otherwise._

'_Sheep-minded people. Don't mind them too much…Besides, I can't exactly say no and go back to my life, can I? You made sure of that.'_

_Your death is inevitable._

'_I know _that!_ That's why I don't mind this so much. You can call this my second chance or something.'_

_Humans..._

'_Ahahaha, awesome, aren't we?'_

_If you are ready…._

'_I am born ready, Primes. Just send me there.'_

_Very well. May Primus watch over you, Raphael Trovatelli._

'_And you, Fathers.'_

A/N: Hence begin the adventure of one man to change the world's order.

Experimental; no flames please.

* * *


	2. One little change

**Disclaimer: still own zilch**

* * *

He was safe now – the silver mech.

The missile launcher had not failed him and though the repercussion of getting spotted by a gigantic Decepticon leader was fatal (Autobot Jazz was thrown at him instead of being ripped apart), he knew he had done his job.

The first step was done.

So, even as he lay on the grey concrete filled with pain that burst out with every move, every twitch his broken body involuntarily produced, the Primes-chosen embraced the beckoning unconsciousness with a smile; a pair of blue optics being the last thing his mind registered before he succumbed to oblivion.

----

'_They're here,' he murmured, seeing the four streaks of fire cutting through the atmosphere. 'That means a road trip to Mission City for me.'_

_After years since he had been dumped and grew into this life, Raphael was quite prepared for the events that were coming. _

_The beginning was starting. With a grim frown, the teenager made his way out of his apartment. _

_It took one day from the city he was in to Tranquility. He had no time to waste._

_///////////_

"_Run! It's too dangerous to be here!"_

_Raphael gritted his teeth. "Do you think I don't know that? Idiot! My last way out is already blocked. I'll take my chances with you all." The young man, clad in prim buttoned up shirt and black suit with matching trousers rummaged around the ammunition and weapons that were scattered around the soldiers. "At least let me help. I'm quite good at handling weapons."_

"_There's no more machine gun!" the leader – Captain Lennox yelled. _

"_But there's a missile launcher!" Epps yelled back, trying to raise his voice above the battle dins. "It's a bit complicated to use – "_

"_Don't worry," Raphael grinned wildly, the launcher already resting snugly on his shoulder as he took an aim at the Tank-Transformer. "This is perfect!"_

_As soon as he saw the megalomaniac landed on the skyscraper with the silver 'bot the boy was there to save gripped tightly in his hands, Raphael didn't hesitate to turn the weapon in his hand towards them._

"_The life-changing shot," he muttered as he aimed, knowing he'd most likely change the future of this planet with this one shot. "I hope your spark is worth this."_

_And he shot. _

_His aim was true and several missiles that followed after saw to it that his plan was working._

_Now there were two things those shots simultaneously caused that made his very body trembled with adrenaline._

_One: he had saved Jazz's life; he was stll kicking and squirming in the larger 'Con's grip._

_Two: it also ensured Megatron's optics on him. _

"_Oh shit!"_

_Raphael only had enough time to dodge the silver 'bot thrown his way, but the landing he made was rough. Jazz gaining his equilibrium and his shout of concern were the last thing Raphael knew before the pain gave way to darkness._

---

"Melinda."

That was the first word her boss uttered when his yellow-brown eyes opened to the sterile white of a hospital room and laid his eyes on her in her crisp formal attire sitting on a couch beside his bed, working on her laptop.

"Mr. Trovatelli," Melinda greeted pleasantly, as if finding him laying in a hospital cot a daily affair; she'd been through many similar awakening scene for the past three years from his various exploits to be fazed by it anymore. The young woman trained her worst glare on him, her green eyes glinting with a promise of bed rest that never failed to make him cowered. "You have been unconscious for three days."

Raphael groaned. "Water please." A cup of water was immediately pressed against his lips – she was always prepared. She had to or her boss wouldn't be aware long enough to take care of himself. His habit of ignoring basic human needs whenever he was immersed in whatever convoluted plans his mind made up most of the time was the source of her problems. "Concussion?"

Melinda ignored the rasping quality of his voice, acting as if they were not in a hospital and he was not immobile. Even if it was a façade, if it helped to ease him up, she didn't mind putting up a smiling face even if her inside quivered with great relief…and not a small amount of anger. Tucking a strand of honey brown hair that escaped the tight bun she had put her hair up to, Melinda consulted the chart at the end of his bed.

"That and several broken bones, several cracked ones, bruised ribs and some artificial wounds," the woman reported succinctly. "The hit on your head was more critical than you though, sir. Your condition was touch-and-go until last night."

The young man chuckled at a humor that was lost to her. There was nothing to be laughed at when he had almost died – again.

"I have the devil's luck," he said, his cinnamon eyes glinting cheerfully.

"Truly?" Melinda raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were the devil himself."

Raphael laughed and flinched, his bruised ribs were reminding him that they were still tender.

"No painkiller, Mel?" he asked with amusement and gratefulness.

"Just as you like it, sir," Melinda smiled at the grimace on his face. She had asked the doctors to pull back on the morphine to avoid him being addicted to it. Raphael entered the hospital on a regular basis and she didn't want to risk him getting addicted to painkiller; he agreed.

"Haha, I know I can count on you," Raphael relaxed. "What did I miss?"

If it was anyone else, she would refuse to divulge anymore information until they had rested well enough for her comfort. But in this case, she could only comply else he's push for early discharge even before his wounds truly heal.

"You have three commissions coming in," Melinda reported, fighting back another urge to yell at her employer for being so careless and force him to rest. Thank God his side job as a freelance progammer didn't require a lot of movement on his part else he'd be running himself raw just to finish the new commissions. "Do you want to hear about them now?"

"Naw. Reject them," the boy moaned pathetically. "I just finished that accounting firm's commission. I want to take a brief hiatus."

"Very good, sir," said the woman playfully. He had once joked that she was more like his butler than his PA so she assumed the attitude of one just to fish out reaction from him.

When she first started, Melinda had been informed that he had chosen her after going through an extensive list of candidates for his personal assistant. And once he was done conducting a rigorous screening process (read: stalking), she was picked and by now, she was paid to know him well and to anticipate his needs.

She had anticipated his next questions before he could even voiced them.

_What happened after?_

"The cover up story being: Mission City is recovering from the gas leak, the casualties are minor but the property damage is severe," Melinda rattled on. She was used to giving out 'sitrep' as her boss had dubbed it, about every skirmish he had been involved in – be it major or not. "The survivors of the incidents, all with the exception of you, are staying in the Hoover Dam."

"I suppose you know the whole thing, Melinda?" he asked, eyes serious.

She gave him a slight smile. "I did. The power of attorney given to me to represent you allows me a leverage to obtain the necessary information."

Raphael sighed wearily; Melinda could trace the visible exhaustion and relief in his features. "Good. Is there anything we need to do before we are free to go? I have school projects to finish. Mrs. Cole with have my skin if I don't give in that history essay in time."

"You have to sign NDA. Someone will bring them over," she told him. "And Autobot Jazz wants to meet you."

"Who?" Her boss asked with a confused expression. At times like this, when he wasn't acting serious and all-powerful, he looked just like any other seventeen years old boy whose most severe problems were getting girls and going through puberty with minimal embarrassment.

"The silver mech that you saved," she reminded him, exasperated.

Within the three years she had been with him, Melinda had compiled a list of people who he had inadvertently rescued, saved or assisted in one way or another. The PA started it as a joke but with Raphael's tendency to stumble into the wrong places at the wrong times, the list grew rapidly. Now it had become a necessity rather than an entertainment.

But one thing remained the same. He never knew who had owed him their lives and he really couldn't care less. All he needed to know was if he'd live to see another day with his body part fully intact or not.

So while he was content with putting his life in line to safe strangers and brushing it off as insignificant, she couldn't. Because when he refused their gratitude, she was the one they go to with all their token of appreciation and contact numbers reminding her over and over again that if the 'nice boy/the humble hero/ the brave young man/my savior' ever need their help, all he needed was call.

She was the one who had to fend them off just like she did the silver bot who was adamant to stay in the hospital until Raphael woke up.

In the end, it was only by his leader's order that Autobot Jazz left the premises grudgingly but not before extracting a promise from her to inform him if the boy woke up.

Speaking of which…

"I have a call to make," Melinda said in lieu of 'excuse me'.

His eyes shone with amusement; she was glad the incident had not put him off his usually happy-go-lucky off-duty attitude. "Only one?"

She smiled widely as she was about to leave. "The secret service agents outside will take care of the rest."

"…secret service?"

Outside, Melinda allowed a small chuckle at his expense. It wasn't every day she could enjoy the sight of her boss stumped.

Now, for that call…

"Autobot Jazz? This is Melinda Carter," she said. "The boss is awake."

---

'_How did I do?'_

_Not too shoddy._

'_Hey! I did awesome, if I do say so myself. Don't laugh at me you ancient pieces of metal!'_

_You need to work on your insults, boy._

'_I like you better when you're all formal and stuck-up!'_

_Very mature, youngling. Blowing raspberries at us will achieve nothing._

'_It makes me feel better. Anyway, Jazz lives. I hope you all know what you're doing.'_

_His death was never meant to be. It will bring more harm than good. That mech is very likable in Cybtertron before the war._

'_So you Primes still watch over your race even when you're all trapped in this mudball?'_

_Spirits have no bodies to hinder movements. We have observed our race for a long time – their glory and their fall._

'…_They will rise again.'_

_We know. That is what we have chosen you for._

'…_Gee, no pressure huh?'_

_..._

'…'

_You can handle it._

'_ARGH! That's not the point!'_

* * *

A/N: please tell me what you think?


End file.
